


make married

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [162]
Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer, Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: F/F, M/M, mentioned lavender marriage (hermann and vanessa), trust me i'm just as unhappy about having written this as you are to be reading it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24885853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: The fact that Newt and Hermann's wedding gets crashed is actually on the milder end of issues givenwhois doing the wedding crashing.
Relationships: Karla Gottlieb/Vanessa Gottlieb, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [162]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Pacific Rim Bingo 2020





	make married

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "Prompt: “I love you too, Newton,” says Hermann, “And I want a divorce.” “D- Divorce?” Rolling his eyes, Hermann adds, “From my wife.”" and for my pacific rim bingo square "crossover" which gives me a bingo and is the only reason i'm not actually physically screaming in dispair over this
> 
> if you have any complaints please direct them to [bae-science](https://bae-science.tumblr.com/) on tumblr because this is all their fault and i cannot be held responsible

The sun shines brightly down on them; warming Newt’s skin. It’s not the first time he’s been outside, of course—but he finds that, since kicking the Precursors out of where they were living rent-free in his head, he appreciates the little things like this more.

He twists his head to properly gaze up at Hermann, who’s sitting by his side, nose deep in his book.

“Pass me a sandwich?” Newt asks; and then, when Hermann just grumbles about how he’s only just gotten to the good part of the story, huffs, and props himself up on his elbow so he can reach into the picnic basket and grab one himself.

Well. Two. Or three. Sue him, but Hermann makes killer sandwiches—even if he insists on cutting the crusts off and slicing them diagonally, like he’s prepping them for some fancy tea rather than a picnic at the park. “You should eat some, too,” he says, after he demolishes the first sandwich.

Hermann hums. “I’m trying to read, Newton.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Newt retorts, rolling his eyes, “and you can eat a pb&j while you read, man.” He grabs another sandwich and holds it out to Hermann. “C’mon, Herms.”

There’s a second, and then Hermann sighs. “Fine,” he says, pretending to be grumpy; though his tone lacks the bite it would have if he were; and he takes it. “Are you happy now?”

Newt grins. “Very,” he says.

Hermann winds up finishing the book before the picnic basket runs empty; so Newt pours him some tea and scoots up to sit by his side, watching his unfocused gaze as he sips it. “Penny for your thoughts?” he asks, gently.

“I’m afraid they aren’t terribly interesting,” Hermann murmurs; and Newt scoffs.

“Try me,” he says. “I love you, dude, and I love listening to you talk.”

“I love you too, Newton,” says Hermann; lips curling into a smile that lights up his face the same way it did the first time newt met him, twenty years ago. “I was just…thinking about us, you know, and..” he hesitated before continuing, “and I want a divorce.”

“D—divorce?”

Rolling his eyes, Hermann adds, “From my wife.”

Newt frowns. “I thought you and Vanessa would have split by now…”

“Yes, well.” Hermann grimaces. “That was our intent—I was about to bring it up to her after the war ended, but, then, well…” he trails off. “Other things happened, and I threw myself into my work, and it…got a bit forgotten.”

“After I left, you mean.” Hermann’s silence tells all; and, in an attempt to lighten the mood, Newt adds, “well, you probably saved money.”

Hermann huffs. “Probably,” he agrees. “Ah—we can call Vanessa and Karla when we get back home, if you’d like?”

Newt smiles. “Sweet,” he says, “and after the paperwork is done, you have literally no excuse not to propose to me properly.”

“Of course that’s what you’re focusing on,” Hermann says, drily; but his eyes are crinkled up at the corners.

* * *

Karla and Vanessa are, in fact, thrilled; Karla spends an hour teasing Hermann about to impending nuptials—despite both him and Newt protesting it won’t be anything fancy—, and Vanessa insists that they have to let her know five months in advance of any ceremony so she can get time off and they can fly over.

“You really don’t have to,” Newt protests. “We could always just video call you…”

His sentence trails off at the look she levels him. “Absolutely not. We’re coming and I’m going to experience Hermann finally get hitched.”

“I’ve already been,” Hermann points out.

She and Karla both scoff. “Yeah, to me, which doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, well, the tax department would beg to differ,” Newt mutters; but it’s not really an argument; so they sign off with promises to let them know.

The months tick down; the papers arrive, and Hermann signs them, and sends them in; and then a few weeks after that, Vanessa calls to yell over what sounds—and, though the camera is shitty, looks—suspiciously like the inside of a diskothek at them “Look at this!” and flashes her and Karla’s intertwined hands, bearing matching gold bands.

Hermann turns the sound down. “Congratulations,” he says, “I’m going to hang up and you can call back when you’re somewhere far, far away from that atrocious music.”

Newt stifles a laugh into his hand. “Good on you,” he manages, finally.

“Better start the wedding planning, Brüderchen,” Karla says; half-drowned out by the noise; and then the call cuts out.

Hermann sighs. “We’re going to have to plan something, aren’t we?” Newt raises a brow. “Fair enough,” he concedes.

They do wind up planning a bit; though not anything fancy; the ceremony is quite nice, and they choose a nice venue for the party itself.

The fact that everything goes really well up through the start of the wedding should tip Newt off, but it doesn’t, so he’s just standing to dance with Hermann when there’s a scoff behind him.

“I thought you’d do better than this, Geiszler,” says a high, childish voice that sounds weirdly familiar; and Newt turns to see—

A kid.

“Um,” he says, “sorry, little buddy, I think you’re…in the wrong…place…”

Except, as he lays eyes on the giant of a Eurasian man by the kid’s side, he suddenly remembers why he seems so familiar. He groans. “Artemis Fowl. Seriously?”

“Artemis Fowl?” Hermann parrots.

Fowl regards the two of them coolly. “I see fruitcake is on the menu, Geiszler,” he drawls—fucking hell, he’s, what, eleven? What sort of eleven-year-old drawls? “Should have stuck with Alice—at least she didn’t make you retire.”

Hermann takes a step forward; and Newt puts a hand on his arm—there’s no way that he’s letting Hermann fight an eleven-year-old.

“Oh my god,” he groans; not really in the mood to tackle any of that. “For fuck’s sake—look, kid, I’m not who you think I am, okay? I’m just trying to have a nice wedding with my husband.”

“Yes, I can see; I’m not blind,” Fowl snaps. “I came to offer you the chance to—“

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Newt says. “The answer’s no, so skedaddle.”

“Geiszler? something wrong?”

For once, the only thing Newt feels on hearing Anako’s voice is relief. “Yeah, uh, some kid the Precursors did war crimes with showed up, and he’s not leaving,” he mutters. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees them mouth “War crimes?”, and squint.

“Geiszler, this is a fucking kid.”

Newt sighs. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“They did war crimes with a ten-year-old.”

“I’m eleven—” Artemis begins to say, but Anako makes a dismissive noise.

“No, no, what were they? Did he shoot up a hospital with his Super Soaker?”

“I am offering you the chance to go back to what you’re good at,” Fowl says patiently, a single eyelid visibly twitching. “And, since I have personal interests at stake, I’m willing to ask Butler to…assist, should persuasion be necessary.”

“Lovely,” Hermann mutters. “I can’t even have one night without something absurd happening.”

“Mind the kettle, pot. And as for the wain,” Anako turns to Artemis, “when I was your age, I’d get gussied up on a Saturday night and chuck Molotov cocktails into UDA cars for a lark. You look like a strong breeze would send you to the A&E. Don’t make me test that theory,” Anako says; pleasantly, but their flinty gaze speaks volumes; and they take a step forward.

Fowl flinches. “Fine,” he says. “Come, Butler—I have better things to do than try and convince idiots to work with me.”

Newt watches them disappear. Anako, thankfully, stops glaring a bit, and goes back to Dick’s side. The music, which, in the time since Fowl entered, changed from slow dancing music to something more like a salsa, is actually something they’re quite good at—Newt, though, isn’t, and neither is Hermann.

“Well,” he says, clapping his hands, “who wants cake?”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
